


The Swing of Things

by rudennotgingr



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:43:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudennotgingr/pseuds/rudennotgingr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boundaries of their relationship are pushed over the line. Will they find new balance or do what they always do, run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Disturbing Equilibrium

**Author's Note:**

> Written from a prompt from thebadddestwolf, "Ten x Rose: hammock". Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

"Rose, I'm sorry. But...you, that is we..as in the both of us, er, _havetoremoveallourclothes_." The Doctor tugged nervously on his ear as his sentence tumbled out in a rush, the words blending together. He could feel a slight blush creeping into his cheeks. Hopefully Rose wouldn't notice. Not that he would know. His brown eyes were decidedly _not_ focused on her. He was finding the darker ring in the wooden grain of a floorboard to be particularly fascinating at the moment.

"We have to do _what_?" Rose asked. He could hear the arch of her eyebrow in her tone, he knew her well enough for that by now. Her body language was second language to him at this point. Not that he had been looking at her body. Much.

He drew in a deep breath, stuffing his hands in his pinstriped trouser pockets and rocking back on his heels. "We have to undress." He was proud of the forced unaffectedness his voice carried, despite the anxiety curling tighter and tighter in the pit of his stomach. He stared at an invisible point above her shoulder, trying to brush images of Rose Tyler slowly peeling off her clothes from his mind. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. What was his problem?

"Ok."

He snapped his eyes open and looked at her. "Ok?"

"Ok," she repeated, shrugging her shoulders.

"I am still speaking English, am I not?" It was his turn to arch his brow. Had he slipped into his native tongue without realizing it? Or some other language? Some made up means of communication based on jumbling nerves and heavy apprehension?

"Yeah..." She tilted her head to the side, looking at him like he had missed something obvious. He never missed anything obvious. Well, almost never. When he wasn't blatantly ignoring a coincidence or being distracted, namely by the blonde human standing just a few paces from him. Her calm about the situation was driving him mad. Had he misread things between them? Had his superior senses been picking up on the wrong things? How could she be so bloody calm when he felt like he was going to burst from the tension?

"So I tell you that we have to take our clothes off," he paused, giving her a pointed look before continuing, " _all of them_ , and all you have to say is ok?"

"Well...we will be putting on other clothes, yeah?"

"Er, yes. But--"

"Then what's the problem? We face away from each other and change our clothes." She crossed her arms and looked at him evenly, trying to be the voice of reason. "Not like we haven't done it before."

The Doctor was all too aware that they had indeed done it before. It had happened 27 times to be exact. If he were a gentleman, he wouldn't be able to recall each instance in exquisite detail, particularly the ones where Rose had needed his assistance in some way or another, his eyes drinking in smooth creamy patches of skin that were usually hidden from view. Yes, if he were a gentleman, he wouldn't be able to call up those visions in startling clarity in usually the most inopportune moments. Good thing he was a Time Lord. Wait...was it? Was that a valid excuse? Probably not...

"Doctor?" Rose was giving him an odd look.

"Hmm?" He hummed in response. Had she been talking? Judging from the amusement twinkling her eyes, yes she had. Luckily, she was used to his varied attention spans. And seeing as how they weren't in danger...she usually leaned towards amusement rather than annoyance. He had gotten extremely lucky this go round. He gave her an apologetic smile, earning a firm roll of her eyes.

"The problem?" she repeated.

"Problem? What?" he blinked, his brain leaping around to grasp at the last thread of their conversation. "Oh! Right, sorry. Yes, the problem. The problem is, well, there are several actually. So let's make a list, hmm? One, the other clothes are more like mere scraps of fabric than actual clothes. Two, certain areas of exposed skin will have to be painted on to form the traditional markings for the event. C, no...hang on...three, there will be servants entering the room any moment now to ensure we do things the proper way. Don't worry, they are professionals, bred for this specific type of thing. No sex drive whatsoever. And really, they aren't so much bred as grown...but that's neither here nor there.” He sucked in a breath, stealing himself for her reaction to the last item. “Which brings us to four. The proper way, according to this culture, is for us to perform the required preparations on each other."

"When you say preparations...?" she trailed off, the rest of her question left unspoken. She watched him with wide nervous eyes.

"I mean we will have to undress, redress, and paint each other." He swallowed and held her gaze, waiting for the lashing out that was sure to come. This was his fault after all.

"Oh," she responded in a quiet voice, chewing in her thumb. "Wait...how come?"

"Ah, um...well, you remember when we first arrived and I introduced us to the locals?"

She furrowed her brow, recalling the past events over the last three days. He saw the instant the missing piece clicked into place, her eyes refocusing on him. "You introduced us as husband and wife."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Did you do this on purpose?" She looked at him with an unreadable expression. He didn’t so much hear the words as feel each one ram into his chest.

"What?" he asked hoarsely. Panic flooded his system and at that moment, he thought they were headed in a direction that led to her leaving him. He stepped forward and started to reach for her hands, thinking better of it at the last second. He ran his hand through his hair and began pacing. "Rose, I would never--honestly never--do something like that in order to...I wouldn't. Especially not to you. I just...I know their culture, and if something like this were to happen, I assumed you would rather it be me than a stranger. There’s always a chance they would have paired you with--”

"You're right, I would." Her matter fact tone had him spinning mid stride to face her, his long coat billowing widely around him. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "And I was teasing you by the way."

"You...oh." Relief crashed over him, leaving him feeling shaky and unsure. He laughed nervously, trying to cover up the turbulent emotions that had just overtaken him. "And here I thought I was the rude one?"

She smirked but brushed off his attempt at humor. "I know you wouldn't do something like that just to undress me."

"You sure? I swear I didn't...I thought..." He looked away from her, clenching his jaw and balling his hands into tight fists.

She stepped forward and placed a hand on his cheek, willing him to look at her. When he looked into her eyes, all he saw was warmth and a level of trust he had never received from another person. A level of trust he didn’t deserve. He couldn't help the way he leaned into her touch, seeking comfort.

"I know. And I'm sure," she whispered then gave him a reassuring smile. She brushed her thumb gently over his skin, faint tingles spread from his head to his toes and he suppressed the need to shiver. His hearts pounded against his chest as his eyes dropped to her mouth of their own accord. His gaze darted back up, the hitch in her breath making him acutely aware of how close they were.

A knock on the door caused them to spring apart, the moment gone and forgotten. The Doctor looked at the door as if it were the most dangerous thing in the universe. He cursed himself inwardly for putting them in this situation. If he had just insisted they return to the TARDIS after helping the locals with their Grindelwald problem (the ferocious giant felines of the planet, no connection to Harry Potter), they wouldn't be in this predicament. But Rose had fluttered her lashes and had said please and had pressed her body close to his and his reasons for _not_ staying had spontaneously combusted, leaving a different heat crashing through his veins. What choice did he have really? He may be the last of the Time Lords, the Destroyer of Worlds, the Oncoming Storm...but he was nothing when it came to Rose Tyler. And she didn't even know.

The afternoon had been fine. Full of festivities and games where they had been allowed to wear the attire they had arrived in. Then came the preparation for the evening ceremony. The feast and giving thanks to the local gods...and the sunset and the customs that had to be followed lest the gods be insulted and their problem come back ten fold. He didn't believe in the gods and the superstition. What he did believe in, was that the natives would have no problem carrying out the full punishment on Rose and himself, despite having solved their problem in the first place. He didn't fancy ending the day trying to come with a plan to escape a death sentence.

The knock came again, more forceful and interrupting his thoughts.

"Let's just get this over with, yeah?" Rose asked, her tone showing more confidence than he knew she felt. Still, it was more confidence than he had, of that he was certain.


	2. Building Momentum

With a curt nod in Rose’s direction, the Doctor crossed the room and pulled the door open. “Hello,” he said brightly, forcing a smile on his face. “Sorry, must not have heard you the first time.”

The two locals standing before him stared blankly, their green almond shaped eyes unblinking and a startling contrast against their yellow skin. The painted red lines that ran down their arms in one long stroke indicated that they were the serving class, an idea the Doctor wasn’t overly fond of but at least on this planet they were treated with care and a certain level of respect. His eyes dropped to the items they carried and his throat constricted. One carried a bundle of clothing. A very small bundle of clothing. Too small. They would be practically wearing nothing. His pulse raced wildly as he eyed the single bowl of red paint the other one carried. Just a bowl...no brushes. The paint would be applied by hand. He swallowed, focusing on calming his nerves, and stepped aside.

“Come in, come in.” Sweeping his arm wide, he held the door as the two servants entered the tiny room. He closed the door, resisting the urge to bang his head against the solid wood, and turned around. Suddenly the room was too small. It had registered as such when they had first entered, but he hadn’t paid any mind. The past nights had been spent wherever they could catch a break, sleeping out under the stars. Even though Rose had slept curled up at his side in some shape or form, the addition of four walls and one _hammock_ to sleep in, of all the bloody things, sent him into full blown flight mode. His feet twitched in his trainers and his brain mapped the quickest path back to the TARDIS.

“Doctor?” Rose was watching him closely, a slight crease in her brow. The servants were also focused on him. They wouldn’t say anything outright, not to them at any rate. But they would be the first to scurry off and inform their hosts if the guest couple wasn’t complying with the arrangement.

“Right. I...um, right.” He nodded uselessly, a small motion he could control unlike the current situation unraveling before him.

Rose flicked a glance at the two outsiders then back at him. She approached him with a smile, but he could see the nervousness in her amber eyes. Looping her arms around his neck, she pulled him to her in a tight embrace. He stiffened at the unexpected contact. They were always rather physical, no...tactile with each other, and hugs were a normal occurrence. But they were usually a celebration after saving the day or finding each other after being separated or a reassurance after narrowly escaping death. This was...different. He knew part of it was just for show, Rose was brilliant after all, but he could also sense something else. Emotional comfort.

She started to release him, his nonresponsiveness the most likely culprit, and his panic increased. His arms snaked around her waist and he pulled her closer, anchoring her to him and letting the feel of her body pressed against his override his senses. Probably not the best idea, considering he was about to see _everything_ , but she had offered and he could never turn her away. It didn’t escape him that the lingering hug was largely selfish on his part, but as the guilt exploded within he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“It’s alright," she whispered, her breath ghosting over his ear. Her fingers curled and uncurled in a perfectly timed motion, scratching gently against his neck and shoulders. He shuddered and held her tighter. "It's not your fault,” she urged, misreading his reaction.

“But it is," he insisted. His hearts weren't really in the argument, but it allowed for for him to channel his energy into something else. Something that wasn't nuzzling or nipping her neck. "If I--”

“Stop that." She leaned back, placing her hands on each side of his face and forcing him to look at her. She narrowed her eyes, her serious expression leaving him with an overwhelming desire to kiss her. "It’s not your fault, and I don’t want to hear anything otherwise. We’ll be ok, yeah?”

“Yeah," he choked out. Her face was so close...her lips were so... _Stop it_.

“Good." She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, a hidden amusement dancing in her eyes. "Now, let’s see just _how_ impressive you are, Time Lord.” Her eyes raked over his form and his jaw dropped at the same time as his arms, releasing her. She gave him a wink, just the tip of her tongue peeking out between her teeth, then turned away from him, sauntering back to the center of the room.

His eyes were transfixed by the sway of her hips and his brain was astoundingly blank as it tried to process the blatant innuendo she had casually tossed in his direction. Well, that was...different. Decidedly a very good different. And just what he needed in order to shake off the remaining tension. Two could play that game.

As soon as she looked back at him, he drew himself up to his full height and stalked towards her with a wolfish grin. He gripped the lapels of his coat and in a smooth calculated movement, he flipped his hands back. The coat rested at his elbows for an instant before shucking it the rest of the way down his arms, gripping it in his hands. With an exaggerated swing of his hips, he tossed it to the side without looking, where it landed on a low table. He stopped just in front of her, an unspoken challenge stirring the air between them. Her eyes were wide and he smirked at her slack jawed expression. Oh yes. Two could _definately_ play this game. A game that treaded very fine lines, but he couldn’t resist playing nonetheless.

One of the servants cleared its throat, and the Doctor turned from leering over Rose to see the clothing it was holding out impatiently. Right. The bravado he felt just seconds before fled his body, leaving apprehension in its wake.

Looking back at Rose, he took a deep breath and flashed one more apologetic smile before reaching for the buttons on his suit jacket. Might as well get it over with. He could only hope things wouldn't be awkward between them afterwards. He knew his feelings for her, even if he was too afraid to voice them. But the what ifs of how she felt towards him, and how each scenario could possibly affect the outcome of this situation were suffocating him. Rose’s hands covered his own and he uncertainly met her gaze.

“Aren't’ we supposed to…” she took a shaky breath, “undress each other?”

His throat went dry and he couldn’t find it in himself to speak. He nodded, his eyes slipping away and his hands clenching, bunching the fabric of his suit. Rose gave his hands a gentle squeeze then rubbed her thumbs in small circles over the backs of his hands until they relaxed. He reluctantly let her guide his arms to his sides. He stared at the ceiling, counting wooden slats, his whole body tense as he felt her undo the buttons, one by one.

She pushed the suit jacket off his shoulders and to the floor, the soft rustle just the beginning of the layers dropping away. There were gentle tugs at his neck as she worked to undo his tie. He kept his gaze upward, trying to ignore the swift shock of arousal as the silky material hissed through his collar. Oh for Rassilon’s sake, she was just removing his tie. How was he going to make it through this whole thing? Pleasant tingles burst from his nerves as her fingers danced down his chest, slowly popping each button of his Oxford free. Her hands hovered over his lower belly, just above his waist line...then she was tugging the fabric free of where it had been tucked into his trousers. He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing audibly and willing his breathing to remain even.

Gentle pressure slid up his torso, leaving a trail of warmth even through the remaining layer of his vest top. Her hands slipped under his open Oxford, resting on his shoulders, before gliding down his arms. His button up slowly fell away, but his brain was more focused on the feel of her hands. The skin on skin contact flared his imagination to a wild life of its own, images of sweat slicked bodies moving together, faster, harder, faster... _fuck_.

His eyes flew open, sensing her still before him, and he looked down. His mind had run so out of control that he hadn’t noticed that she was now gripping the hem of his vest top. She must have pulled it free from his trousers with his Oxford. She bit her lip and her eyes were full of concern. He nodded, granting his consent. He lifted his arms for her as she raised his vest top up until she could no longer reach. Finishing removing the garment, he went rigid as her fingers skimmed over the skin just above his trousers. Blood rushed in his ears, heading in a direction it very much did _not_ need to be heading. Breathing heavily, he snatched her wrists in a flash and she looked at him in confusion.

“My turn,” he whispered, his voice low and hoarse. This time, she was the one dropping her arms and nodding in silence.

He kept his eyes trained on the movement of his hands as he pulled the zipper down on her charcoal jacket. He tried to recoup, tried to convince himself it was just a task, just something that needed to be done objectively. Each click of the releasing zipper teeth, chased away the remaining voice of reason, his already precarious control slipping further from his grasp. He removed her jacket much the same way she had removed his, then was hit with a troublesome thought. He had insisted on taking a turn in order to collect himself, to control the unruly hormones building with frightening intensity in his system, but there was the problem. 

Rose didn’t wear nearly as many layers as he did.

The next article to remove was her pink t-shirt...leaving only bare skin and her bra. Rose was focused on something he couldn’t see, staring forward but somehow not at him. Once more guilt reared its ugly head and his cheeks tinted with shame as he realized just how this must feel for her. Forced to expose herself in such a manner. It wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of the situation like that. Gritting his teeth he grasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it off in one fluid movement. 

Once it was removed he willed his eyes to stay trained on her face, even if she wasn’t looking at him. Not so bad if he kept his eyes averted. If only he could undress her like this the rest of the way. Not likely. Even with his superior brain power, there were bound to be errors in judgement as to where his hands needed to be. Blindly groping her just to avoid looking at her in this moment, was not an option. Glancing down briefly to gauge distance he quickly brought his gaze up, watching the light play on her golden hair and struggling to push how beautiful she was far into a deep, dark corner of his mind. He'd like to fling that lacy black bra of hers to deep, dark corner of this room. _Stop. It._ Holding his breath, he reached out, fingers grazing across her belly in search of denim.

At her sharp intake of breath, his eyes snapped to hers like a powerful magnet. Her eyes were wide and her pupils were dilated. Her breathing was low and heavy and a slight flush dusted her cheeks. Oh. _Oh_. Time slowed down and he could hear her heart thundering in her chest, his own two racing in the same frantic tempo.

Either one of two things was happening. Either she was enjoying this with him. Or she was enjoying it because she was a young human female and she couldn’t help it. 

He desperately began to hope it was the former.


	3. Peak of Motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little longer than the others, but I couldn't see stopping it anywhere else. Thank you to two individuals who pointed out small typos in the previous chapter. Once again unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

A scuffing sound behind the Doctor, pulled him back to reality. Rose’s eyes broke contact with his and she leaned to glance around him. They may have been enjoying undressing each other more than either would care to admit, but they were not alone. That was enough to kill the mood right there. If only the servants didn’t have to bloody hover. The notion that they weren’t in their own little bubble, as much as it felt like they were, sobered the both of them and he wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or angry. 

He managed to undo Rose’s trousers and push them down her legs without any embarrassing incident. Part of him was relieved. A more unruly part of him noticed that her knickers matched her bra. Well, that answered that question. Not that he should have been wondering about that in the first place.

By some unspoken agreement, it was her turn to remove his trousers. He kept his eyes on her face, further committing to memory all the details and imperfections that added up to staggeringly beautiful perfection. If he focused on her face, he could pretend that she was simply wearing a bikini and that they were about to go for a swim. He could use one right about now. A dive into some frigid cold water would do him a universe of good. She reached towards him, then hesitated, biting her lower lip.

“I’m just gonna take it off all in one go,” she blurted out, her cheeks flushing a brighter shade of pink.

“You what?” he squeaked, blinking furiously. This was heading into a bad situation much sooner than he had anticipated.

“Your trousers and your pants. I’m going to remove them at the same time. That way I can help you into your...whatever the other thing is, before you finish undressing me.” She paused, doing her best to look at him in reassurance. “It’ll be like removing a band-aid, yeah?”

“Oh. Hadn’t thought of it that way,” he allowed, tilting his head to the side. Panic kicked in as he realized what he just said. He scratched the hair at the nape of his neck, backpedaling as fast as he could. “Not that I was thinking about you removing my clothes. Well, obviously, my superior brain was _aware_ that this was a possibility. A very, tiny, infinitesimal possibility. But a possible outcome nonetheless. I didn’t think about it in detail though. I--”

“Doctor.” 

“Yes?” He dropped his arms to his sides, from where they had been frozen wildly in the air mid ramble.

“I’m going to remove your trousers now,” she stated matter of factly as she stepped closer and placed her hands on the button of his trousers. He leaned back just enough to hold up a single finger in front of her face. Her brow furrowed, but she nodded in assent...keeping her fingers in place. Twisting awkwardly, he managed to retrieve the small scrap of fabric that would soon be his only means of clothing. Resuming a more normal, if not relaxed stance, he had barely opened his mouth to tell Rose to continue when she popped the button of his trousers free in a flash. He hoped against hope that the loud zip of his fly covered up his ragged intake of breath.

Soft, warm fingers wormed beneath the elastic of his pants. He clamped his teeth on the inside of his cheek, nearly drawing blood, to keep from making any other number of inappropriate noises. He should look away, he really should look anywhere but at what Rose was doing. It was like watching a horrific accident, knowing you shouldn’t be watching but unable to tear your eyes from the scene playing out before you. And then...it was too late.

She tugged the clothing down his legs, crouching as she did so. The sight of her basically kneeling before him was nearly his undoing. His hearts raced impossibly faster in his chest as her eyes were drawn to his exposed cock, her tongue darting over her bottom lip. It took every ounce of discipline, and some very unpleasant images of Jackie, to make himself only half hard. It was still more than was respectable, but better than a full blown erection bobbing in her face. Or so he thought.

Rose’s face became a mask of neutrality as she stood up, snatching the garment out of his slackened grip. She unfolded the fabric then reached behind him, stepping well into his space, in order to position it on his hips. It was loin cloth, basically. No getting around it. Just two squares of deep blue fabric, enough to cover his bum and the important bits in the front. He held his breath, refusing to breath her in while she was nearly pressed up against him. Tying the knot securely she stepped away and spread her arms in a welcoming gesture.

“Your turn,” she said flatly. The flush in her cheeks was gone, and her eyes held nothing but stony indifference. Ice flowed through his veins, dousing his smoldering arousal in the blink of an eye.

“Rose? You alright?”

“Yup.”

She was far from alright, she seemed mad about something, but he hadn’t the foggiest notion as to what it was. He cautiously approached her and gingerly placed a hand on each of her shoulders. He slowly turned her so that she was no longer facing him. Her posture slumped, a subtle movement that ate at him and made him worry that this had gone too far. It was likely he had misread the signals earlier. Or he hadn’t and it was the option that involved no feelings towards him, that it was all caused by the situation itself. He couldn’t be sure anymore. They were crossing lines that he had never intended to cross. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to talk to her about it until the ordeal was over.

Trying to keep his hands from shaking, he undid the clasp on her bra, something he had fantasized about more times than he cared to admit. He pushed the thin black straps until they fell down her arms due to the pull of gravity, his hands still resting on her shoulders. Unable to resist, he brushed his thumbs over her warm skin. Her muscles were pulled tight, straining from the tension, and before he knew what he was doing, his hands were dancing across her back. 

His fingers kneaded and massaged her flesh, working out the kinks until her head lolled forward and a soft sigh escaped her lips. Knowing she couldn’t see his face, he grinned, allowing himself this one indulgence. The sound would haunt him later, in his dreams and under very different circumstances. He didn’t care. His hands drifted lower, only pausing when they reached her knickers.

Inspired by her earlier actions, the Doctor turned and retrieved the top she would need from one of the servants. For her it would be like wearing a bikini top, not too far out from her comfort zone. Hopefully. Keeping the top knot tied loosely, he slipped it over her head then pulled her hair from beneath the string. They worked together in silence. The Doctor did most of the work, securing the bottom tie firmly before adjusting the top one, Rose tweaking the clothing as needed, her hands settling the fabric over her breasts. Something he thankfully couldn’t see. Not that he didn’t want to. But, not like this.

Once the top was in place, he stood back and looked at her, admiring her curves and the smooth tone of her skin. All of their running had done her body enormous favors. Beautiful was an understatement.

“See something you like?”

His eyes whipped up, from where they were most certainly _not_ ogling her bum. Rose was looking at him over her shoulder with an arched eyebrow. She looked torn between amusement and irritation. His jaw flapped uselessly, his brain unable to conjure a witty retort. He gestured vaguely at her arse in an effort to convince her he hadn’t just been admiring the view. He had. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Like a band-aid,” she reminded him.

He swallowed and nodded. She gave him an unreadable expression then turned back around. Taking a deep breath, he retrieved the last piece of clothing from the servant and draped it over his shoulder. In his mind, it had seemed logical to kneel. It was the easiest way to make sure that her knickers came off swiftly. The sooner they were removed the sooner he could cover her up again. That would have worked had he been an actual, proper doctor, with a lower case ‘d’. As it was, he found himself in the position of Rose Tyler’s perfectly sculpted arse staring him in the face.

Blimey.

Rose shifted on her feet and his eyes nearly popped from his skull. His hands shot to her hips, forcing her to be still.

“Stop. Moving,” he growled. He closed his eyes, reining in his thoughts and blocking out everything around him. Her muted sorry was barely registered. He wasn’t sure if she had glanced at his new position, and he added it to the list of things he didn’t care about. 

_Like a band-aid._

Moving his hands, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her knickers and pulled. As soon as they reached midway down her calves, he sprung up, needing to get away from...from _there_ before he did something incredibly stupid. He didn’t even wait for her to step out of them before reaching around her to position her own loin cloth around her hips. Hers was the same as the one now slung over his own hips, two squares of cloth with gaps in the sides. Only hers was just a tad shorter. He finished tying the knot then stepped back and clapped his hands together.

“All done,” he said breathlessly.

“Except for the painting you mean.” Rose turned around, adjusting her new outfit.

“Ah. Yes.” His eyes quickly skimmed her body, an action that he hoped went unnoticed. He didn’t feel _as_ guilty about it now. After all, he had seen her in a bikini before and this wasn’t much different. But she was still his companion and still very much off limits. He shook his head. “Right. So, the markings are really fairly simple. We are only required to do the, uh, bare minimum since we are outsiders. Just enough to show that we respect the gods and have pledged ourselves...to each other. Anyway, who goes first?”

“I’ll do yours first” she said, taking the bowl of red paint from one of the servants and leaving no room for arguments. All right then.

She followed his guidance easily, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration as she worked. The Doctor prattled on about the markings in between giving her instructions in order to distract himself from what she was doing. A cluster of three dots sat at the base of his spine with identical swirls fanning out on either side. A simple sun was drawn on his upper back just above his right shoulder blade. Two lines, what Rose knew as an equals sign, were placed on the upper part of each arm. Two more identical symbols were created on his upper thighs, where the skin was left exposed between the pieces of fabric. Two solid lines were placed at an angle, just above his hip bones, one on each side. He clasped his hands, holding them just above a certain area, while her fingers pressed against his skin. Best to be safe.

Last came a line that started at his collar bone on the left side of his body, trailing up and around the back of his neck, then crossing over and down to make a swirl, curing in on itself, directly over his left heart. It was a marking of unity, showing that the one he had pledged himself to held his heart, forever. Or in his case, hearts. Or, also in his case, a pledge that hadn’t actually happened.

Rose passed him the bowl then cleaned her hands off on a cloth one of the servants had produced from seemingly no where. She turned around so that he could work on her back first. He sent her a silent thank you for reading his thoughts and starting with the less awkward places. The sun and design on her lower back were identical to his, and he finished them in no time. 

He asked her gently to turn back around, and she complied without saying a word. She wouldn’t even look at him, her eyes were fixed on something just off to the side. He wanted to ramble, but was at a loss for as what to fill the empty silence with. It’s not that being silent around Rose was uncomfortable. On the contrary, they had spent plenty of time together in companionable silence. Now, however, it left his thoughts to fill up the emptiness. It left him to focus on the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips. It left his imagination to wander and yearn for things he could never have.

Next, he painted the double lines on her arms and thighs. She continued to stand quietly, her lips drawn in a thin line. She hadn’t spoken much when she was painting him. The task appeared to lessen her frustration, but it was still there. And he still had no idea why. Resuming his task, he painted the lines on her hips as objectively as possible. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was done. One thing remained to be completed. This was going to be awkward.

“Rose, look at me,” he pleaded.

She turned her head, meeting his eyes, but didn’t speak.

“I have to, er, paint your chest now.” He wanted to tug on his ear, or run his hand through his hair, but couldn’t. Not while holding the bowl in one hand and the other one covered in red paint. “Yours is a little different. The natives believe the females carry their hearts in the middle of their chest. So the pattern will be different, but the meaning is the same.”

“Just get it over with.” She cut a look to the servants before muttering under her breath. “Don’t worry about me and my stupid little human body. Not like this affects you or anything.”

He blinked. Is that what she was mad about? That he wasn’t _affected_ by this? By her? That would only bother her if...oh. Once again, he was getting the feeling that she felt something for him other than just friendship. The little hints were constantly there, and the look in her eyes in some of their quieter moments...but this was different, less subtle. 

Blimey, he was thick. He wasn’t sure where she had gotten the idea that he didn’t want her in that way…No, he knew why. Going by all of his actions before now, it would make sense. After the past few minutes, did she really not know?

His pulse raced and breathing became hard to do, like he had spent the day running for his life and his double bypass hadn’t kicked in. Rose had ceased looking at him, and his walls were crumbling at her feet. He was teetering on the edge, closer than he had ever been before. If he spoke what was on his mind, hinted at what was in his hearts...it would change their relationship.

What if he was wrong?

For once, he decided to take the plunge.

“You’re wrong.”


	4. The Pull of Gravity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to awkwardmomentsintimeandspace for taking a look over this for me. I added a fair amount at the end and changed some things after she looked at it, so any mistakes are still mine.

The Doctor felt like he was free falling, permanently suspended in mid air with no way of knowing if he would land on his feet...or flat on his face. As soon as the words passed his lips, his voice shaky but determined, Rose’s eyes had flown to his face. She stared at him in shock, her mouth hanging open. He wished she would say something, _anything_. Even a slap would be welcomed at this point. Some sort of reaction to tell him whether or not he had made the greatest mistake in all of his lives. He held his breath. The desire to run was building in his legs, long limbs ready to carry him away from here, away from this, as soon as his brain gave the ok.

“What did you just say?” she asked quietly, watching his face with intense scrutiny.

Shit. Maybe he _had_ made a mistake. It felt like she was giving him an out, an opportunity to cover it up and pretend it never happened. Just like they always did. Just like _he_ always did. He opened his mouth, then clicked his jaw shut. He had missed it before, overlooked it in his panic...but there was hope gleaming in her eyes. His hearts pounded painfully, frantic exaggerated beats that threatened to burst in his chest. She had heard him alright.

He had come this far, no point in stopping now.

He looked down at the bowl in his hand, dipping his index finger into the red paint and mustering his courage. Rose sagged and when he looked back up, disappointment colored her features and she wasn’t looking at him. Well, that wouldn’t do. He pressed his finger carefully to her skin and made two dots, one on each side of the hollow in her clavicle, then dipped his fingers in the paint once more.

“I need you to lift your hair,” he said, looking at her gently even though she continued to ignore him. The last marking to be painted on her was an upside down rain drop. The fat end would loop around her neck, and the point would come down, dipping between her breasts. “Please.”

Worrying her lower lip, moisture gathering in her eyes, she complied. Oh, no. He didn’t want her to cry. This was not good. Very, very not good.

“I said…” he paused, reaching to make the beginnings of the raindrop around her neck, a gap open just above the top of her breasts. He felt her eyes on his face, but paid attention to the movement of his hand, watching the red paint stain her skin. When that was completed, he met her gaze and placed his finger back on her chest, keeping it still and feeling it rise and fall beneath his touch. “You’re. Wrong,” he repeated firmly as he traced his finger down the valley of her breasts, lingering for a moment to drive the point home before trailing it back up to finish off the pattern.

Rose’s eyes had flitted down to his hand then back to his face, her pupils dilating once more. “Yeah?” she asked breathlessly.

“Oh, yes,” he replied huskily, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Her resulting grin made all the apprehension and doubts that had plagued him for months well worth the confession, and he felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

“Does this mean--”

“Later.” He wished he could explain it all now, but admitting they weren’t a proper couple in front of the servants was not a good idea. Her face fell and he cocked his head behind him by way of explanation. Rose made a silent “oh” then huffed dramatically, crossing her arms. His eyes dropped to her chest unbidden and he quickly returned focus to her face. She smirked then made a show of raking her own gaze over his barely covered form.

Chuckling, he turned around to pass the bowl to the outstretched arms of one of the servants, then wiped his hands clean from the cloth offered by the other.

“Now that you two have finally completed the necessary preparations, you have exactly one quarter of an Earth hour to reach the sight of the ceremony.” The servant informed them, giving the Doctor a bored look.

“Right,” he replied. “Yes. Thank you.”

The two servants left the room without another word, closing the door softly behind him.

“So,” Rose began as he moved to face her, “can we talk now?”

“I’d love to, really I would.” He sucked in a breath, hating to be the bearer of bad news. “But if we want to make it to the ceremony, which is partially being held in our honor, then we need to leave now.”

“Oh,” she said, trying not to sound too dejected. “Ok.”

“Trust me, Rose. I would much rather stay here with you...and-and talk. Which is not something I often do, let alone want to do.” She rolled her eyes, unconvinced. Not that he could blame her. He walked over to her and placed his hands on her arms, just below the paint. He had wanted to hug her, wrap her in his arms and hold her, but he knew that if he did so, they would never leave the room. The feel of her body pressed against his with so few layers would be the end of his tenuous control. “Later. I promise.”

She nodded and he placed a kiss to her forehead then released her. Smiling warmly, she held her hand out and wiggled her fingers. “Shall we?”

…..

They made it to their destination, hand in hand, with a few minutes to spare. The outlook, like everything else in the village, was set high up in the multistoried sized trees. They got there by a series of wooden bridges and platforms leading from their temporary dwelling to the location of the ceremony. It was to be a celebration of life. And while it wasn’t strictly about bond mates, the start of all life began with them, well, for this race at any rate, so they were to be afforded a higher level of recognition. All the attendees who weren’t pledged to anyone, could be seen way down below, pinpricks of color dotting the forest floor.

As for the rest of them, including the Doctor and Rose, they were seated at various levels, wooden platforms set at different heights on the trunks of the trees. There was no assigned seating, save the rulers of the village. The only rule was that each couple sat together, alone. They were a bit closed minded when it came to the idea of “sharing”. Not like he could blame them. The idea of sharing Rose with anyone, pledged to each other or not, made his blood boil.

Out of habit, he placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her to the primitive lift that would take them to a vacant platform. Electricity shot from his fingertips through his entire body, his focus narrowing to absorb the details of the bare skin on her lower back and how the muscles rippled when she walked. Once aboard the lift, he reluctantly removed his hand. Rose looked around, drinking in everything her eyes touched...everything except him.

He should have been offended, given his earlier confession. He wasn’t. Things were only partially out in the open, the discussion they desperately needed to have pushed to the side due to bloody formalities. He wasn’t put off by what would usually be viewed as lack of interest. He knew that wasn’t the case. He could feel the difference in the air between them. Sparks sizzled from one to the other, ready to ignite and set them aflame. It was only a matter of time until the invisible insulators snapped, releasing the overpowering current to coarse rampantly through them. It would remain to be seen if they would go down in the resulting flames or dance among them.

The lift stopped and the Doctor allowed Rose to walk onto their designated platform before him. The platform itself was rather large, following the curve of the tree trunk. They walked across it and through an archway in a crude wooden wall. Rose continued to the front where they would view the evenings events. He pulled the curtain hanging by the archway down, effectively closing them in, before walking further. The platform above them provided a ceiling of sorts and there was another wall erected on the opposite side of where he was standing. The only opening of the space faced out over a wide valley.

Rose walked to the edge of the platform, gazing out over the landscape painted in varying hues of greens and purples, dark browns scattered where the tree trunks peeked through. The twin suns were descending in the open sky, making the pinks pop out against the darker shades. A gentle breeze ruffled her hair and her makeshift skirt.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, turning to look at him with a wide smile. The sunlight against her back made her hair shimmer like a halo and the dark blue clothing paired with the red markings accented her fair skin. She was breathtaking.

He could only nod in response. He scratched at the back of his neck, missing his pockets and feeling suddenly exposed.

"It's like our own little world in here," she continued, looking around. Her eyes fell to where there were supposed to sit for the duration of the ceremony and she shook her head ruefully. "What is with this place and the bloody hammocks?"

Following her gaze, sure enough a hammock was strung up between two wooden posts sticking out of the trunk. The ropes were thick and the gaps between the holes were fairly small. Still, they would leave indentations on their legs and he was highly doubting the comfort level would blow him away.

"It can't always be silks and high backed chairs, Rose," he said, shrugging his shoulders and sauntering over to the hammock.

"Well, it doesn't always have to be jail cells either," she shot back with a grin.

"Oi! This isn't a jail cell. And the last ones we were in happened to be top notch. Better than some of your earth hotels, thank you very much." He sniffed then sat carefully, mindful of the way the fabric fell (or didn't fall) over his lower extremities. 

A thundering gong rang out across the valley, causing Rose to whip her head around. She looked back at him in bewilderment.

"That'll be the starting signal," he informed her. Patting the seat beside him, he grinned up at her, trying to keep the innocent banter they had going back and forth. "Come, sit down."

She closed the distance without hesitation and sat, arranging herself just as carefully as he had. Due to the nature of the seat, if you could even call it that, she was sitting extremely close to him. The heavier weight of his body created a dip in the material, causing her to slide closer to him, like a planet being sucked into a black hole. Within a fraction of a second, her thighs pressed against his, skin to skin. Their arms knocked together, trying to occupy the same space. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Even with her acceptance of what he and said earlier, he now had no idea where their boundaries were. How much was too much?

A soft, lilting music drifted up to their ears and Rose sat with rapt attention, leaning forward slightly. Voices began to join in as the sun sank lower. He heard her gasp as bird like creatures in a dark blue shade that matched their clothing took to the air.

Time stretched endlessly before him. His eyes saw what was going on, his ears heard the music...but none of it sank in. He was hyper aware of Rose's body and every millimeter of warm skin that rubbed against him every time she shifted her weight. He leaned back, laying his hands over his chest. He could still see the birds that danced and dived in the sky, but his gaze fixated on Rose. 

Guided by nothing more than the desire to do so, he reached out with one hand and trailed a finger from her elbow up to her shoulder. She shivered then tensed and gripped the edge of the hammock. He stilled, not wanting to push his luck. Once she relaxed, he moved his hand across her upper back, brushing her hair over the opposite shoulder and out of his way.

He wasn't sure why, but an overwhelming need to touch her took hold of him. He supposed it was something that had always been there, just buried under insecurities and reasons why they should never cross this line. Feeling her skin beneath his fingertips like this, his hand skimming over the expanse of her back, he was ready to set that line on fire. Burn it to ash and scatter it in the wind.

The first sun set below the horizon and what she would think of as fireflies joined the birds in the air. Rose sighed deeply, her back arching into his touch as she continued to anchor herself to the hammock with her hands. He dipped his fingers lower, tracing the barrier of fabric that kept part of her still hidden from view.

She looked at him over her shoulder, eyes dark and lips slightly parted. His hearts stumbled in his chest and he knew he was looking at her in much the same way. Heated and longing from nearly two years of slow build up.

She turned away, disappointment creeping into his veins only to be chased away when she leaned back. She moved so that her body was angled the smallest bit towards him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. He spread his arm out across the hammock, no longer sure of what to do with it. His breath caught in his throat when she placed a hand on his chest. He had to bite his lip when she slung the leg furthest from him over one of his, worming to settle between his knees. She stretched her leg slowly against him and sent his imagination racing far ahead of what they were actually doing.

She tilted her head up, her warm breath puffing over his neck. He feared he would regenerate on the spot when she whispered two words in his ear.

"Don't stop."


	5. New Balance After the Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge, huge, huge thanks to fadewithfury for looking over this and helping me through the rough patches. All mistakes still mine. And now here is the final chapter. Hope you guys enjoyed it!

The Doctor swallowed audibly, once again rendered speechless by the companion cuddled up beside him. Companion was looking more and more like a word that was entirely unfit for labeling Rose Tyler. He wasn’t even sure he could find a word accurate enough for who she was and what she meant to him. Not one in a language she would understand at any rate.

His pulse racing, he maneuvered his arm in order to continue stroking her back. The different angle and added weight of her on top of his arm restricted his reach to a smaller area than before. He didn’t mind. Being able to touch her like this was enough. 

He traced idle patterns on her lower back, refraining from drifting lower only because he wasn’t sure if _she_ was ready for that just yet. He was ready, he had never felt so ready for anything before. If only she were to slide her hand, currently resting on his chest, down his body, touching him the same way he was touching her. He imagined the feel of her fingers caressing his chest, then skating down his torso. Up and down, up and down...going lower with each pass. As he let his mind wander, a certain area of his body grew ready at an almost alarming rate.

They lay in silence, listening to the music and watching the creatures spiral in the air. He got lost in the colors and the lights, the last sun barely hanging on just above the distant horizon. The notes in the melody were joyful, but not boisterous and obnoxious and Rose’s breathing accompanied them at a steady pace. His feet rested on the ground and he used them to sway the hammock in a lazy rhythm. His simmering arousal leveled out for the time being, suffusing his limbs with a pleasant tingle. His whole body was relaxed, content to stay in this moment for as long as the universe would let him. It was a new feeling. One that would normally cause him to fling himself headfirst into the next adventure. But not now, not with her.

Her breathing hitched and her fingers on his chest curled into his light smattering of hair there, her nails scraping gently over his skin. Warmth burst from his chest, washing over his body and burning away the contentment, replacing it with a painful need for more contact. Puzzled by her sudden action, the renewed arousal buzzing in his skull, he looked down. His hand, very much without his knowledge, had apparently worked its way to her hip. That bloody right hand had a mind of its own. His long fingers were splayed over as much of her as possible, two having slipped beneath the very top of the front section of her loin cloth. In a very delayed action, inexcusable by Time Lord standards, he ceased his thumb from tracing the slope of her hip bone.

_Too much, too much, too much._

The Doctor tilted his head to look at her, his apology dying on his lips at the heated look in her eyes. A thousand thoughts raced through his head, all of them involving his mouth on hers. He licked his lower lip, an impulse he couldn’t suppress, and watched as her eyes intently followed his tongue. Should he say something? Should he lean forward? Pull her closer? He was rubbish at this. All he knew was that he desperately wanted to kiss her, would probably--

Every single brilliant thought running through his mind vanished the instant her lips touched his. She had shifted and closed the distance between them, leaving him blissfully surprised. Neither one of them moved at first, it was probably the most chaste kiss in all of time and space. But he wanted more, _needed_ more. He couldn’t properly taste her like this, the barest tease tingling on his lips. And if he was finally going to be kissing her, he was going to to it the right way. Thoroughly.

He tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer, and cradled her face with his free hand. He moved his mouth against hers, slowly at first, holding back. She reciprocated and it wasn’t long before they were both kissing in earnest, working together to find a satisfying rhythm. Her hand snaked from his chest to sift through the hair at the back of his neck. Any remaining innocence in their actions was lost as tongues darted forth, each swipe increasing his need to have her.

He sucked her plump bottom lip into his mouth, pressing the heel of his palm down her spine before squeezing her bum and then skating his fingers back up with soft feather light touches. Rose moaned and ground against him, seeking friction from his hip where it was wedged between her legs. He released her lip with a wet pop and looked at her questioningly.

“I think,” she gasped, sliding her hand down his torso, “we need to move this to the next step.” She cupped him through the thin fabric and he hissed in a breath. She rubbed his stiff cock and the desire that had been building slowly, struck him full force. His head pitched back and he bucked helplessly into her hand as she continued to stroke and tease him. Oh, fuck that was...that felt… _brilliant_.

“Rose,” he groaned.

“Yes, Doctor,” she purred, placing hot wet kisses along his neck.

“Stop.”

She snatched her hand away, as if he’d burned her, and moved to push against his chest in an effort to get away. His head shot back up and he wrapped his arms around her, pinning her to him and capturing her lips with his, his arousal still coursing through him like wild fire. She struggled, but that only made him hold her tighter. Instead of trying to get away again, she returned his kiss with a burning passion. Her mouth opened against his, her warm tongue brushing past his lips as he surrendered with a groan. Her hands plunged into his hair and she moved to straddle his lap, his hands anchored to her hips in order to steady her as the hammock jerked beneath them.

She hovered over him, her lips and tongue sliding along his in a pace he was having trouble keeping up with. His brain was on overload, full of too many sensations of where she was touching, and _not_ touching, him. It was very clear that in this case, she was the winner. Settling fully on his lap, he could feel her core through their silly excuses for clothing. He moaned as she swiveled her hips in a tight circle, and she took the opportunity to nip his bottom lip before pulling back, hands resting on his shoulders, to look at him with a smug grin.

He shook his head to clear it, sucking in ragged breaths. “I don’t want this to stop," he assured her before she could say anything.

"You're sure? You're not having...Doctor-y regrets?"

"I've never been more sure of anything," he whispered, the three words he longed to tell her weighing on his hearts. The pure affection shining in her eyes told him she felt the same. He pressed a quick kiss to the inside of her arm. "But is this what you want? Out here in the open?”

“It’s not like anyone can see," she reasoned. She rose on her knees, making the hammock bounce unpredictably, and he gripped her hips tighter. Once they stopped wobbling, she placed a hand over his. Holding his gaze, she guided his hand over her thigh and beneath the scrap of blue material. The Doctor held his breath as she moved his fingers higher up until they reached her throbbing center.

"Fuck," he blurted. She moved her hand to his wrist, allowing him to explore but keeping him where she wanted. She was hot and wet and so much more than he had ever dreamed of.

“I need you," she moaned as he slipped one finger inside her. She closed her eyes and rocked against his hand once, another soft sigh escaping her lips. Her eyes fluttered open. "Now.”

He couldn't, wouldn't, argue. Touching her like that had sent hormones crashing wildly through his system, leaving him a with a single minded desire. While she was beautiful in that position, and part of him was only concerned with pleasing her...he had a deep primal need to take her and claim her as his own.

He pulled his finger out of her slowly, and she whimpered at the loss. He flipped his loin cloth out of the way, freeing his erection. Taking himself in hand, he stroked his length once before angling it to slide through her folds. The only sound he was aware of was their labored breathing as he positioned himself at her entrance. She sank down on his cock, taking him in deep, and he placed a hand on the back of her neck, yanking her face to his. He kissed her hard, her fingers digging into his shoulders, in order to muffle his cry of pleasure as his body trembled at the feel of her wet and tight around him.

Their kisses slowed as she began to move above him. They clung to each other, trying to find a pace and angle that worked for them both. Just as he could feel the coil curling tighter, she would stop. Or they were forced to stop due to the hammock rocking unsteadily, nearly tipping them out more than once. 

She grunted in frustration and slumped her shoulders. He was getting irritated and impatient. He had thought that if they had ever decided to take their relationship to this stage, that the sex would be amazing, brilliant, perfect. This was far from it. He knew he could get off as long as she could find a position that didn't jerk the hammock about and stick to it. But that's not what he wanted. He wanted them to come together, or he didn't want it all.

"Do you want me to..." he trailed off, frowning as she awkwardly climbed off of his lap. The hammock dipped and bobbed with the shift in weight, jangling him about when she hopped off it and into the ground. “Rose, what are you…?”

“I want to see," she said, as if that explained everything. Was she really worried about watching the ceremony _now_? Just shy of the edge, she stopped and turned towards him. She sat down, her back to the open sky. "Come here," she called softly.

“But if I…” he swallowed. She was extremely near the edge, with nothing to stop them from tumbling to the ground below if they were to get...carried away with things.

“I trust you.” She laid back on the wood, and propped herself up on one elbow. Beckoning to him with the crook of her finger and a smile filled with love, he closed the distance, kneeling once he reached her feet. He crawled up her body as she leaned back, positioning himself between her thighs and kissing her tenderly.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he gripped the edge of the platform, his elbows pressed tightly to her shoulders, to steady himself. He sheathed himself within her, pushing as deep as he could, both sighing in pleasure and relief. She hitched her legs over his hips, crossing them over his lower back. The minor change in angle was all the encouragement he needed to continue what they had started, his nerves about the chance of falling chased away by his need to have her come apart beneath him.

Rose met him thrust for thrust, the feel of her surrounding him so completely drove all forms of higher thought from his mind. His knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the platform, the risk of falling now adding an extra layer of excitement, rather than fear. He moved as hard and fast as he dared, sending them closer and closer to completion. She arched underneath him, incoherences spilling from her mouth as her head titled back, watching the ceremony still taking place before them. His lips moved to her throat, sucking and nipping, leaving marks that would stain her skin days later.

He could feel her body tense, just as his own muscles pulled tight. She buried her face in the side of his neck, her lips mouthing his name as the first wave of her orgasm crashed through her. One more thrust and he was tumbling over the edge, biting her shoulder to stifle his moan and coming hard within her.

They moved together, chasing the aftershocks of pleasure and kissing lazily as the last of the light faded from the sky. Ending the kiss, they both angled their heads to look out into the open air. Rose’s head was tilted at an angle, but she remain wrapped around him, not yet ready to break apart. The birds and since vanished, leaving only the alien lightning bugs to create shining arcs in the darkness. A soft, soothing melody drifted through the trees and a light breeze cooled their overheated skin. He waited for the regret and the panic to set in, having taken a step he had sworn not to take. It never came. He was content with this new change, his hearts bursting with love and affection for the human girl who had saved him in more ways than one.

Still tangled together, he looked down at her and brushed a lock of hair from her face. Looking away from the sky, her eyes found his in the dim light. He gave her a slow smile then rolled so that he was beneath her. Shifting to get more comfortable, he slipped from inside her and he felt a pang of loss despite feeling sated for the time being. Holding her close, they drew lazy patterns on each other’s skin and they lay in silence for the remainder of the ceremony. Rose watched the sky, casting the occasional warmth filled glance in his direction. He kept his eyes on the one thing he loved most in all the universe. Her.


End file.
